


you’re the fire that revives (a flower that was wilted)

by eatthatup



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Bartender Taeyong, Break Up Talk, Emotional Constipation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Out, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23876374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatthatup/pseuds/eatthatup
Summary: Once the drink burns his insides, opens the cage where his heart has been locked, frees every thought he’s been repressing since Johnny last texted him. Ten manages to count until the third glass, but by the fourth, he can’t help but blabber.“He’s so—friendly,” Ten says, catching the bartender’s attention, “I can’t hate him. I just can’t. What do I do now?”“Uh,” he mutters, “what?”
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten, Past Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny - Relationship
Comments: 5
Kudos: 95





	you’re the fire that revives (a flower that was wilted)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skateboardsound](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skateboardsound/gifts).



> hello! i'm back with another commission, this time for @cakelovedotmp3 who was super nice for waiting and cheering me on!! so i really hope you enjoy this and meets your expectations <3 thanks for reading
> 
> again thank you @pandawful_ for being a wonderful beta! ily<3 go commission her, such a wonderful artist!
> 
> [if you want to commission me all the info is here!!!](https://twitter.com/ten__wv/status/1241880594625200128?s=21)

Ten really needs a drink.

He doesn’t need friends, nor Johnny, nor anyone to help him. All he wants is to be alone and cry, lament his past mistakes, and then move on. A strong liquor to burn his throat and a naive bartender to hear all of it. The relationship, the fights, the break-up, the making up. The whole process.

As the bar comes into view, Ten wishes he was smart enough, but his sad brain is telling him, over and over again, that alcohol is a good option, that forgetting about it will make him feel much better. Even if it’s momentary.

People inside are having fun, clearly, dancing and smiling, pure bliss on their faces. Ten craves that feeling, but his tired body makes a beeline for the counter of the bar, where bartenders come and go. The stool he sits on is cold, as well as his heart, and Ten chuckles at his own dramatic metaphor. 

A man next to him stares at him with a bemused expression. 

Then, finally, a pink-haired seemingly young bartender approaches him, slowly, looking at his gloomy state. 

“Hello,” he greets him. Ten gazes up at him from where his head is buried in his arms. “Do you want anything?”

“Give me your strongest drink.”

The guy gives him a similar look to the other man by his side, yet disappears for a moment and comes back with a transparent glass that Ten knows will be like swallowing liquid fire. Exactly what he needs.

So he gulps it down in one go. 

“Another, please,” Ten says. The pink-haired guy now is worried but doesn’t say anything. Ten guesses it’s his job, after all. 

Once the drink burns his insides, opens the cage where his heart has been locked, frees every thought he’s been repressing since Johnny last texted him. Ten manages to count until the third glass, but by the fourth, he can’t help but blabber.

“He’s so—friendly,” Ten says, catching the bartender’s attention, “I can’t hate him. I just can’t. What do I do now?”

“Uh,” he mutters, “what?”

“My ex is a nice person! I have no way to cope—I, what am I even saying?” For a moment, he forgets what he was about to say, then finds his words again, “Oh yeah, fuck him, and his nice words, and his fucking apologies! No wait—he’s a _good_ person, oh God, I can’t even _insult_ him.”

“Seems like you need to, well, vent,” he says, and at the same time places a blue drink on the table for a person sitting on his other side that’s now staring at him weirdly. 

“No, hear me out, we broke up but on good terms, I—we only fought twice in our relationship, I think about moving in together and—wait, also he wanted a dog and I wanted a cat and—”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” now the guy murmurs, a hand on his shoulder. He looks ethereal from where Ten can see. His eyes glint, at least.

“I am calm!”

They all look at him. Ten doesn’t even blush, embarrassment is long gone now. 

“What’s your name?” Ten asks him after a moment. Even though the guy kept on doing his job, serving drinks and disappearing from Ten’s small field of view, he appears right in front of him again.

“Taeyong,” he replies, “and yours?”

“Ten.”

“Ten?”

“I’m Thai,” Ten furrows his eyebrows. Taeyong and his nice name nod. 

“Oh, sorry.”

“Listen to me, Taeyong,” Ten continues, “you have a nice name, a nice face too now from what I can see and—how can I be so stupid? We’re friends now! Who is friends with their ex?” 

“Well, a lot of people.”

Ten doesn’t know why Taeyong is even listening to him, let alone replying to his constant and annoying blabbering. 

“I know, but still, I’m so mad—so angry, so… I don’t know what I’m saying,” he finally murmurs and places his head on his arms again. 

Taeyong seems to advance towards him, and places a hand on his back as to wake him up.

“You’re too drunk,” he points out.

“Am not.”

“You are, c’mon,” he replies, patting his shoulder and making Ten look at him.

“I like your hair.”

“Thank you,” then, Taeyong smiles, and Ten forgets about everything for a moment. His brain is burning. 

“Y’know—I should’ve broken up with him sooner, I knew it wouldn’t work out, oh God, I made a mistake.” 

“Ten, you need to lower your voice, and calm down for a bit, okay?” It’s soothing, his voice, like an angel, Ten thinks. He keeps thinking, and thinking, and it hurts.

“It hurts,” Ten voices.

“You’re hurt?” There’s concern in his tone, and Ten is glad _someone_ worries about him. 

“My heart hurts,” he whispers.

Taeyong awkwardly pats his back again and then leaves for a moment. 

“We’ll call you an _Uber_ , okay?”

“No, I made a mistake, let me rant about it—he broke my heart but now it just feels empty, y’know?”

“I know, I know.”

Taeyong knows. It calms him down. 

And the next morning when Ten regrets every decision he has made, he still recalls his name. Taeyong. 

-

The next time, Ten goes to the bar only to apologize.

He makes a promise to himself to not have drop of alcohol, and simply find that bartender—Taeyong, to say sorry to. It’s not a difficult task, or at least, that’s what Ten thinks as he enters the bar and locks eyes with a certain bartender. 

In his entire life, Ten has never truly felt ashamed, embarrassed, he’s a bit careless and unabashed. So now, staring at Taeyong who heard him rant the whole night about his ex, Ten goes a dark shade of red. His cheeks burn, and he knows he looks _guilty_. 

Still, he walks towards the counter and calls for him. (It’s still early, so it’s not really crowded, it seems like the perfect moment to have a chat), 

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” Taeyong replies as he cleans some glasses. He’s good at paying attention to both different things at the same time. 

“I’m not here to get drunk, promise.”

Taeyong giggles. Ten is proud. 

“So?” he questions, curious. 

“I’m here to apologize, I was a disaster last night, I’m sorry you had to like—hear all about it,” he tells Taeyong, a remorseful expression on his face. 

“Don’t worry,” Taeyong says, “I’m quite used to these situations, though yours was more… memorable.”

Ten’s eyes go wide. “What? Why?”

“Your story, I guess, I was intrigued, even—but during work I can’t really sit down and listen to you.”

He’s the nicest bartender Ten has ever met. And he has pink hair. 

“God, I’m sorry,” Ten continues, “I still like your hair, though.”

Taeyong’s cheeks mimic the color of his hair and he lowers his head to hide it, which makes Ten feel closer to him. It’s a weird situation. He wants to tell someone, now. 

“Don’t worry, really,” he keeps on repeating, relieving. Soothingly. His voice is soft and pleasant to hear, and Ten wants to keep talking even if it means breaking his promise. 

“Okay, okay,” Ten says, “I want to repay you though.”

“ _Repay_ me?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, “what time do you get off?”

“Tonight? Really late,” Taeyong grimaces.

“Oh, well,” Ten pouts, “my plan is ruined.”

He didn’t exactly have a plan, but buying him a drink and chatting for a bit, maybe, seemed like a good idea. And a nice apology. 

(And very similar to a date, which makes Ten’s stomach churn). 

“Don’t worry, I’m free tomorrow from 10 p.m to like 1 a.m,” he says, composed. Ten grins.

“Great! I’ll be here then,” Ten exclaims and stands up from the cold and dirty stool. 

“You till didn't tell about me about how you’re gonna repay me.” 

“You’ll see.”

-

Ten isn’t excited.

No, he’s never this thrilled to go to a bar to meet a stranger, basically. But there’s something about it that seems to put a smile on his face that’s impossible to wear off. 

Doyoung appears to be opposed to his idea.

“You’re insane,” he says, “that’s what you are.”

“Why?!”

“Because he’s a stranger! And you’re using him to feel better again!”

“I’m not,” he exclaims, “I just—made a mistake and now I’m apologizing.”

All Doyoung does is roll his eyes, continuing making coffee idly. 

“Stop getting mad at me for no reason,” Ten says, sitting down on the table and waiting for a coffee to magically appear. It seems like his hangover is lasting more than usual. 

“For no reason?”

“Yes?”

“You’ll thank me later,” it’s all he says, “when you regret this.”

He disappears into his room and, obviously, doesn’t make enough coffee for Ten to have some, so he sighs and starts the machine once again. Unconsciously, thinking about tonight makes his lips curve, and he feels pathetic at the mere thought.

Because he is excited, thrilled to see Taeyong again and apologize formally. To, maybe, have a new friend to confide in. It’s exciting, no matter what Doyoung says. 

-

Now he sees the bar with different eyes. 

Not a way to escape reality, nor a place to present his shameful face, it’s now a simple, relaxing place for him to talk, maybe drink, spend his time with someone. 

(Getting ahead of himself, he assumes _someone_ would be Taeyong).

He enters the bar with a smile on his face and doesn’t see pink anywhere. His face falls, and his mind reminds him of how naive he is, how easy it is to get him interested, how easy it is to break his heart. He’s got experience, at least. 

“Hey,” says someone from behind him. It’s Taeyong. Ten mentally slaps himself. 

“Oh, hey,” Ten greets him, and Taeyong guides him to an empty table so they can—do whatever Ten proposed him to do. 

It’s quiet for a moment. He likes how it’s not awkward, at all. 

“Okay, I know you work here, but you must have a favorite drink,” Ten comments. 

Taeyong thinks for a moment. “I do. I like a good _cheongju_.”

“Nice,” Ten says and gets up, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Sending him a puzzled look, Taeyong stares at him walk away with determined steps. Once Ten is back holding a glass in his hands, Taeyong hides a smile and lets his head hang low. Ten notices, and it’s so cute he almost trips. 

“Here it is,” Ten places it on the table, “I promised myself not to drink so this is only for you.”

“You don’t even want a taste?”

Ten pouts. He’s not an alcoholic, but there are thing inside his brain he’s desperate to hide, to forget. And alcohol seems to help him feel better about the regrets that haunt him every day. 

“No, no,” he shakes his head, “I’m gonna stay sober. No more oversharing.”

“I don’t mind,” Taeyong says.

“What?”

“The oversharing, it was fun watching you rant,” he explains, “also, I kinda wanna learn more about that ex of yours.”

He’s a bit taken aback. “You serious?”

Taeyong nods. Ten thinks he found himself a therapist. 

“Well,” Ten clears his throat, “don’t joke around because I’m about to tell you every single detail.”

He sips on his drink. “Go ahead.”

“Oh God.”

Ten tells him almost everything. Every single fight, every time they made up, every moment shared happily, and the ones where tears were shed. He doesn’t spare any details, and Taeyong listens attentive with a serious expression on his face. Ten feels only a tad bad, yet the way Taeyong looks at him, eyes glinting, makes Ten want to keep talking forever.

But it’s impossible. He rants until he’s out of breath, and Taeyong is laughing at him. 

“You really are passionate about your break up, huh?”

And it clicks. He says it, and a switch inside his brain is turned on, something changes.

“I… am. What the fuck.” 

Taeyong stares at him, a bit worried, and bites his bottom lip. His glass is half empty, and his cheeks a pretty pink color. 

“I didn’t mean it like that! I understand you completely.”

Ten places his head on his folded arms.

“I seriously need to forget him.”

“You do, but for your own good, y’know? If you become obsessed you will probably miss new chances to have a new beginning.

He’s so good at words it hurts. Ten wants to bang his head against the table, and erase every thought and memory there’s about his past life inside his head.

“You’re right,” Ten tells him, “so right.”

“I’m glad I could help,” he smiles. It brings Ten joy, for some reason. “And thanks for the drink.”

“Don’t thank me, God, I feel bad now.”

Taeyong simply smiles. “Thank you.”

-

The next day, Ten calls Johnny.

“I jut wanted to talk.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, but I feel like I need to tell you… some things.”

“Okay… What is it about?”

“I need to forget you,” Ten mutters, “or like, not _you_ , but _you_ as this person who’s a memory I’m obsessed with.”

“I… understand? But, is there a reason? What happened?”

“No, I just—had some kind of revelation. I couldn’t kind of forget what we had, what we went through, even if we’re okay, I just—need to have a proper ending.” 

“I didn’t know this, I’m sorry, you wanna meet up?”

“Don’t worry about it, hyung, it’s not your fault,” Ten laughs, to himself, about his situation, he smiles and feels at ease, “I loved you, and you loved me, and that’s in the past. We’re in the present, and our present is—a good friendship.”

“That’s right, Ten, don’t feel like the past is haunting, or bad, it’s what it is.”

Johnny’s words make his shoulder feel less heavy.

“It’s what it was.”

“I’m glad you talked to me,” Johnny seems to smile through the phone. Or that’s what Ten guesses. “I also needed this.”

“We both did,” he says, nodding to himself. 

He hopes Johnny nods back. 

-

Then, Ten feels free. 

Doyoung is able to tell, he’s always wary, attentive, a good roommate, a nice person overall. (Sometimes, he’s a pain in the ass, but Ten allows him to because of the many times he’s been there for him).

“You look different,” he tells him, “finally got dicked down by that bartender?” 

“Shut up!” 

“What? I’m just saying, you’re glowing,” he sits on a stool and reaches for the box of cereal Ten loves so much. “It’s been a while. I’m glad.”

He secretly smiles. Although nothing happened, it all feels less heavy, the weight he had been carrying all this time, left behind, allows him to be free and walk confidently. 

“No, I just—talked to Johnny, and the _bartender_ actually is a nice person who also helped me.”

“Oh?” Doyoung raises his eyebrows. “You went on a date?”

“God no, we talked and I bought him a drink because of how annoying I had been.”

“That’s literally a date,” he says.

“It’s not.”

“Whatever you say,” he stands up and walks to the fridge, smirking. Ten hates him. He’s not a good person. (He is, actually, and Ten hates him for that too).

Ten rolls his eyes and thinks about what he will do tonight. About Taeyong, and his pink hair, and sparkling eyes. He wonders about the status of their relationship then, if they are friends, or simple strangers who happen to have shared a drink together. Will it be too much if Ten shows up again? Disappointing if he doesn’t? 

It’s a decision he must make, really. And as he’s a coward, the couch looks nice, and a TV show sounds even better, at least Ten pretends. He doesn’t think about it, not at all, sits comfortably and attempts hard to forget the shy smiles Taeyong showed him. 

He doesn’t regret it. (He does. Badly).

-

Then, there are some sort of feelings Ten is finding hard to ignore. 

A pull, it is. To show up again, to chat with Taeyong until there are no more words to be said, until they both are out of breath and satisfied with the conversation they just had. A friendly date, Ten would call it, given the bar, the drinks, the whole scenery. Doyoung would hit his shoulder and laugh, reminding him about how he’s an expert at finding excuses.

Maybe he is.

He runs out of excuses, and walks up to the bar ashamedly, instantly noticing Taeyong at the counter. Ten goes a bit red, even if he would deny it. He stares, gazes at the way he grins at clients and pays close attention to their orders. It’s a sight he doesn’t get tired of seeing. 

Until they make eye contact, and it’s Ten who Taeyong grins at. 

Taeyong gestures for him to come closer, Ten dying a bit inside, and he walks with determined steps although he shakes. Then sits on a stool and greets him, as if he’s not nervous, as if his palms aren’t sweating. 

This Ten isn’t his usual self.

“Hey,” Taeyong says, a bit loud because of the music, “everything alright?”

“Yep,” he smiles. “What about you, pink-haired bartender?”

Now, Taeyong laughs, throwing his head back, and it hurts just a tad inside. “Yes.”

He then turns around and grabs a glass, mixing some drink Ten has no idea what it is, and carefully shoves into a man’s awaiting hand. “You want anything?”

Ten thinks for a moment. “Maybe _just_ a glass of _soju_.”

“I see,” Taeyong turns around and then places the glass in front of him, “you’re a simple man.”

“I’m trying not to get drunk here, don’t tempt me.”

He laughs once again. Ten smiles fondly at him.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Taeyong says, “I’ll take care of you.”

It’s been a while since Ten’s been taken care of, since someone cared for him and showed it, since he’s felt the love of someone through simple actions. 

“Thank you,” all he can do is smile. 

“So, what brings you here?” He asks, a smirk on his face as he look down at the glasses he’s washing.

Ten is bold, now. Maybe is the drink he had. Maybe is that pull he’s been experiencing. Maybe it just is what it is. “You."

Taeyong looks surprised, staring up at Ten with glinting eyes and a half-open mouth. He then swallows and attempts to find the correct words, Ten notices. 

“Well,” he finally speaks, “you found me.”

“I did,” Ten says, “and I’m glad.”

So, Taeyong goes a bit pink, which Ten is glad for. He’s not the only one who blushes and behaves like a teenager. Now, he’s the one to smirk, slyly shifting his shot glass towards Taeyong’s direction.

“You were supposed to have only one,” Taeyong says, “I’m taking care of you now.”

Ten can’t help but smile. Then begins blabbering, and there isn’t almost a drop of alcohol inside his body.

“Wait, now that I realize, I don’t know your age, or your last name, or your, I don’t know, your favorite color.”

Taeyong grins.

“I’m Lee Taeyong, I’m twenty-five, and there’s not really a color that I would call my favorite, but I really like red,” he explains, over the music, eyes fixed on Ten, on his attentive gaze. It’s a bit distracting, Ten notes, because he looks down and then tries to look at him again. He thrives on the attention. 

“Nice to meet you, then,” Taeyong laughs. Ten loves it. “I’m Ten, but I told you that already, although I was drunk, and I’m twenty-four, so I guess you’re my _hyung_.”

“I am,” he replies, “so I’m taking care of you.” 

The glass that was sadly resting on the counter is hidden for a moment by Taeyong, who then washes it and places it with the rest. Ten pouts, although there’s no need for alcohol tight then. 

He doesn’t need a drink. Lee Taeyong is enough. 

-

  
  


Something changes. When for the twelfth time (he’s been counting them), he walks inside the bar, Taeyong isn’t there.

Ten knows his schedule, at least tries, denies he’s aware of the days his shifts ends earlier, and still is always there in time. This time, though, Taeyong isn’t there, and he almost leaves before a voices calls for him.

Pink is the first thing he sees. “You were looking for me?”

“I—Yeah, I was.”

There’s not point in lying, really. Taeyong is standing beside him in all his normal-human glory, dressed with black jeans a white shirt, simple, but new. Around him, there isn’t a black apron, and his shirt isn’t a dark gray, so Ten is a bit taken aback. 

“It’s still early,” Taeyong looks at his wrist, “wanna go somewhere else?”

That common, simple phrase is what makes Ten instantly panic. Is not a _temporal_ client-bartender relationship anymore, because it changes. It means a new environment, a new place, a new conversation. And changes make Ten freak out.

“Of course,” he smiles, ignoring his insides churning, “no work today?”

“It’s my free day.”

Ten nods, continues smiling, gazes at Taeyong’s full body. He’s slim, not small, but thin. He hadn’t noticed before, under blinding lights and alcohol running through his veins. 

“And you’ll spend it with me?”

Taeyong doesn’t budge. “Yeah, I figured it’d be nice to have a nice chat somewhere else, when I’m not working and you’re not yelling over the music.”

He’s right, actually, but it means he’s interested in Ten. In a friendly way, of course. Still, Ten panics. 

“Okay, you’re right,” he chuckles, He hopes Taeyong doesn’t notices his nervousness. 

“We could have dinner,” Taeyong proposes. Ten thinks it’s more than a friendly offer.

“Of course.”

It’s a nice, humble restaurant. So Ten calms down a little, even if Taeyong promises to pay for their food. There’s some kind of tension blanketing them, that Ten prays he’s the only one feeling it. He wishes he wasn’t the overthinking type, he wishes he could enjoy.

(But Taeyong is pretty, nice, funny, and Ten is weak. God is he weak. He falls in love too quickly, he’s quick to like people, crushes that come and go. Ten doesn’t want that, doesn’t want to fall). 

“Seriously? You like raw beef?” Ten asks, grimacing. 

“Yeah, stop judging me.”

“Well, I learnt something new about you beside your not-so-favorite colour,” Ten commes, unable to stop the smile that curves his lips. 

“Oh, I’ve got a lot to tell,” he says. 

Ten isn’t sure if he wants so hear. 

“Really? Got any stories?”

“I got a lot about drunk people, including yours,” he laughs, “people throwing drinks at me, glasses, yelling about the stupid bartender who got their order wrong.”

“Wow, that’s—a lot.”

“You get used to it, since it’s a part of the job, I just ignore it, laugh about it later with my friends,” Ten softens, his shoulders sagging. 

“That’s good,” Ten then says, “I wish I was able to do that instead of ranting to a stranger.”

“Hey,” he frowns, “I’m not a stranger anymore.”

And, well, he isn’t. Ten now comes to terms with it. Taeyong isn’t a stranger, isn’t just a simple way for Ten to escape reality for a bit without any strings attached. 

“Right,” Ten shakes his head and laughs, taking a bite of his food, “this is delicious.”

“It’s my grandma’s restaurant.”

Ten’s face falls.

“Really!?”

“Yeah, it’s good, and small, so I decided to come here so we could be comfortable,” he explains, and God, Ten wants to die.

“That’s—cool, and impressive, and you’re—I have no words.”

Taeyong laughs once again, throwing his head back, and then simply takes a bite of his food while he continues smiling.

“I know, I’m great at picking places,” he flaunts, “I know a very good coffee place, too.”

Ten is aware of the implications of that sentence, of how he’s inviting him to another friend-date and this time, to have coffee, which is one of Ten’s weaknesses. He knows it won’t go well.

(At least for him).

“Oh, is that an invitation?” He pretends not to notice.

“Of course, whenever you’re free.”

Sadly, Ten is almost always free. 

-

“So you _had dinner_ together?”

Doyoung sits on the couch and stares at him judgingly. 

“Yes, shut up, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“It clearly does, God, you’re so oblivious, or he is, I don’t know what is worse.”

The TV is on at a low volume and Doyoung mutes it as soon Ten fixes his eyes on it, distracting himself. His coffee is cold, now, and he curses Doyoung and his incredible talent to ruin his mornings. 

(Or Ten is just amazed at his talent of reading him like an open book, every single time, and now that Taeyong is involved, all he wants is Doyoung to close his mouth).

“It’s just friendly, don’t you have friends?”

“I _do_ , and I don’t blush and behave like a teen in love when I’m around them,” he says, and Ten hates that he’s right. Because Ten blushes even remembering how much fun he had the night before. “You’re blushing right now!”

“I swear I’m gonna kill you.”

“Try.”

Even if Doyoung is, sometimes, a pain to deal with, he helps Ten open his eyes and face the situations he’s so afraid of. He looks at himself on the mirror and the dark circles under his eyes and decides he needs to change his routine. 

No more alcohol or coffee. 

-

The coffee shop is as pretty as Taeyong described it. 

Christmas lights seem to overflow the place, hanging by the windows, the ceilings, the counter. It matches the season, he guesses. It’s beautiful, and Ten can’t stop looking.

“You like it?” Taeyong has stars in his eyes, it’s all Ten can focus on, and then remembers to reply.

“I love it.”

They order coffee, Taeyong’s order being a clear copy and paste of his personality. Ten tell him that, and for a moment, he seems offended.

“Hey!” Taeyong exclaims, “Why?”

“You’re just a softie, I expected it, from the moment you smiled at me when I was drunk instead of calling security.”

Taeyong blushes, his red nose matching his cheeks, and he pretends he’s cold for a moment to hide it. 

“And your _Americano_ , what does it mean?”

“That I’m tired of college and it’s killing me,” Ten replies.

“God.”

They both laughs, and thankfully, the conversation flows comfortably, however Ten can’t take his eyes off Taeyong and the lights shining brightly inside his eyes, like a mirror. Inside, it’s warm, but for some reason, Ten feels warmer.

“What’s _your_ favorite color?” Taeyong asks, nearly out of nowhere.

“Oh, black,” he doesn’t even stutter. Taeyong frowns.

“That’s not a color.”

“Are you kidding me?” Ten asks.

“Well, I mean…”

“I’m an art student, leave me alone,” he says, Taeyong laughs, they smile and it’s so warm he consider taking off his jacket. 

It’s warm in the middle of winter. Ten is sure coffee isn’t the reason.  
  
-  
  
They text now, and Ten is starting to believe Doyoung’s words. 

**Ten**  
_don’t kill them_ _  
_ _that’s my job_

**Taeyong**  
_I won’t I don’t mind_ _  
_ _They can yell all they want_ _  
_ _^-^_

**Ten**  
_i’m scared of that face_

**Taeyong**  
_Just being nice to ppl who’s yelling at me_

**Ten  
** _stop  
_ _just punch them_

**Taeyong  
** _Oh my manager is here  
_ _Ttyl_

**Ten  
** _good luck_

It’s just banter at first, Ten doesn’t mind reading about Taeyong’s horrible experiences at his job. Then it gets deep, and there’s no way out. Ten finds himself spilling more than needed.

**Ten**  
_you’re scared of the dark? really?_

**Taeyong**  
_Don’t judge me I hate it_ _  
_ _My phone is the only thing illuminating my room rght now_

 **  
Ten**  
_so i’m keeping you alive_

**Taeyong  
** _Yeah, in a way_

**Ten  
** _ok i’ll try to keep you safe of the monster under your bed_

**Taeyong**  
_Shut up_

**Ten**  
_i’m scared of love_

**Taeyong**  
_Oh_

**Ten**  
_i’m scared of commitment and i think i’ll never find someone who truly loves me_

**Taeyong**  
_You will, you’re an amazing and caring person, you’re funny and pretty_ _  
_ _Don’t let your past haunt you_

Ten’s heart beats so fast it might as well burst out his chest.

**Ten  
** _this is too deep sorry_

**Taeyong**  
_No it’s okay, I think I can let you rant again ahah_

**Ten  
** _see i’m the worst_

**Taeyong  
** _You’re genuine, real, it’s impossible to not fall for you_

**Ten  
** _You think?_

**Taeyong  
** _I’m certain_

-

Christmas season is not really Ten’s cup of tea. Despite him hating tea, he also despises christmas, or at least the atmosphere around it. Happy people about a day he doesn’t enjoy and never did, gifts and smiles, everything Ten hasn’t experienced in a while. 

Doyoung understands. And their place lacks a christmas tree and any annoying lights. 

“You’re bringing him _here_?”

Ten sighs. “Yes.”

“Does he know you’re the _grinch_?” He says. Ten hates him. 

“No, so shut up, let’s just pretend we love christmas.”

Doyoung just smirks and walks to his room. Now Ten is self-conscious, and his own demons haunt him with gloomy thoughts. About Taeyong, mainly, how he’ll be weirded out and maybe slowly push him away, like another ordinary and mere friend. So yes, he’s obsessing over something that hasn’t even _happened_ yet. 

Then Taeyong texts him and the bell rings. 

**Taeyong  
** _I’m outside_

He presses the buzzer to let him in and breathes slowly, trying to calm down. It’s nothing.

“Hey,” he greets Ten, taking off his shoes. “I like your place.”

Taeyong looks around, fixes his gaze on certain spots and then smiles down at Ten. He doesn’t say a word, he doesn’t mock him, he doesn’t _shame_ him. So Ten can only smile back. 

“Thank you,” he says, “I cleaned yesterday, don’t get fooled.”

He laughs and follows Ten around, like a lost puppy, so Ten shows him around the kitchen and then tells him to sit on the couch. He complies easily. 

“Do you want coffee?” Ten asks. He’s already filling his own cup up. 

“I’d prefer… y’know?”

“White chocolate milk?” Ten chuckles. Taeyong pouts.

“Yeah.”

Ten makes it for him. He doesn’t know why, he doesn’t even make coffee for _himself_ , only drinks what Doyoung leaves after he turns on the machine in the morning and forgets it for the rest of the day. Now, Ten grabs the small white chocolate chips and melts them in hot milk. Then adds a tad of vanilla extract, and curses himself for already _falling_.

He’s so weak it hurts.

“Here it is,” he places the cup on the table and sits beside Taeyong at a considerable distance.

“It smells amazing,” he engulfs it with both hands, warming them up. It makes Ten focus on his reddish nose and glistening eyes. This time, there are no lights, and Ten wonders if he’s going insane. If the stars he’s seeing are part of the feelings he’s trying so hard to suppress.

“I hope it tastes good too,” Ten tells him, “or I’m never cooking again.”

Taeyong sips on his drink and smiles. “It does. You’re a great cook. Gonna tell my grandma.”

Ten blushes, this time a deep red, and feels a sense of what he considers romance, a tension that crosses the line which he’s not ready for. At all.

“That’s—cute,” he manages to say. 

For a bit, they stay silent, and Ten asks him if he wants to watch a movie. It begins a debate.

“You haven’t watched it?”

“I just—don’t like sitcoms.”

“But it’s _Brooklyn Nine Nine!”_

It apparently wakes up Doyoung, their small argument. He walks into the kitchen with sleepy eyes and a frown that almost covers his entire eyes. 

“Can’t you guys just watch _something_?”

Taeyong stands up and bows. “Hello, and sorry.”

All Ten can do is roll his eyes and sigh. “You’re so annoying.”

“I’m Doyoung,” he greets him, “the grinch’s roommate.”

Taeyong giggles and looks at Ten. Still, he doesn’t judge him, doesn’t look around for a tree and christmas decorations.

“I’m Taeyong,” he replies.

“Nice to finally meet you.” 

They meet, and Ten is having hard time believing it. Seeing Doyoung and Taeyong inside the same space, inside the same room, chit-chatting. He clears his throat, but it seems to do nothing to their apparent casual conversation. 

“I’m here.”

Taeyong finally gazes at him and smiles, eyes crinkling. He sits back down on the couch, but this time he sits closer, knees almost touching. Ten gulps. 

“Sorry,” Doyoung says, “you two can keep making out.”

This time his entire body burns. From head to toe, he knows he’s flushing, his cheeks are a deep wine red, and Taeyong sports the same colors as him. (He remembers red is his favorite color, at least he can experience it).

“Shut the fuck up.”

Doyoung finally leaves to the kitchen, and they’re left alone, close, with apple-colored cheeks. It’s Ten who speaks up.

“So,” he says, attempts not to stutter, and Taeyong looks at him wide-eyed. “Wanna watch it?”

He nods and presses play. Their knees touch. Ten falls deeper. 

-

There’s no way to deny it, now. Ten falls. Like jumping off an airplane, blindly, but he knows where he will fall.

Where he will land. Taeyong is a constant, now, Ten knows him, and Taeyong knows him as well. And they both jump. Take the risk. 

Though Taeyong is the first one. He’s the one to break the ice, to walk into Ten’s life and change it, and then slyly enters Ten’s heart. He’s bold, something Ten didn’t expect, and catches him by surprise with a simple text. 

**Taeyong**  
_I want to take you on a date_ _  
_ _Is that okay?_

**Ten**  
_oh_ _  
_ _more than okay_

He knows he’s a flirt, he knows what he was doing when he kept showing up at Taeyong’s bar, knew what he was doing when he invited him over to watch movies. It’s stupid of him to get startled by Taeyong finally seeing his intentions. 

The intentions he’s so scared of. 

**Taeyong**  
_Do you like museums?_

**_Ten  
_ ** _i do_ _  
_ _you’re insane_

**Taeyong  
** _Ten shut up  
_ _Let me care for you_

It somehow brings tears to his eyes.

**Ten**  
_hyung…_ _  
_ _you’re baby i’m the one supposed to say that_ _  
_ _you like white chocolate milk_

**Taeyong  
** _Stop!!_ _  
_ _Can I pick you up at 5?_

**Ten** _  
_ _yeah!!  
_ _i can’t wait to see you  
  
_

His stomach hurts. It fills with butterflies, with fire, with fireworks. Ten knows it’s dangerous, he shouldn’t be getting so deeply involved, yet gets lured in. Taeyong pulls him in, with his charms, his charisma, his pretty eyes and pretty mouth, pink hair and dark jeans to contrast it. He’s a catalyst, for sure. But Ten is not afraid, for it to go down, to happen, for his life to change. 

It’s a need. Ten isn’t scared, he thinks. 

Once they’re inside the museum, Taeyong is shy to even hold his hand, which Ten dares to do although his stomach churns and his hands sweat. It’s hard to hold back, hard to avoid the feelings he hides in the deepest part of his head. 

“So, I’ll be your guide,” he says, and Taeyong tightens their grip. 

“Great.”

Ten has been in this place a thousand times, maybe. He told Taeyong, and even if he tried hard to choose another place, Ten assured him it’s okay, there’s no problem, and that he will show him around. So that’s what he does, shows him his favorite paintings, artists, every meaning and every story. Taeyong is apparently not bored at all, and looks at Ten with shimmering eyes that makes Ten want to hug him right there. 

It reminds him of love. Of love that he hasn’t experienced in a long time. And so he shoves along the thoughts he hides at the back of his mind. 

“This is a great one,” he says, “this is _The Moon and The Earth_ by Paul Gauguin, I don’t know much about the meaning, but I love the aesthetic.”

“You’re really smart,” he whispers, there’s no one around them, but their bodies are touching and their hands are joined—and Ten really is about to fall.

He’s going to fall and it’s going to be a hard crash. It’s knowing where he will land but being afraid to miss. 

Now, Taeyong looks at him, with his pretty eyes, filled with stars, and Ten can’t help but stare back, eyes fixed on him. For a moment, time stops, and then Taeyong is leaning in, pressing his lips against his. It’s landing, and his heart shifting, and being afraid of the feeling. It’s being afraid. Taeyong pulls back and smiles, it’s a single second, and his face falls.

Once he notices Ten is pale, serious. Not exactly how a reaction to a kiss should go. He drops his hand and looks down. Ten laments it. Gulps and deals with the consequences. 

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong says. 

“Don’t be,” Ten begs, “please don’t be.”

“I’m sorry If I pushed—”

“You didn’t, seriously—”

“Ten, I’m not an idiot, okay? You should be comfortable with me, and I’m not here to be played with,” he spills out. Ten notices his hands are shaking. 

“I’m not playing, I swear, it’s just hard, and, I don’t know how to explain it—It’s hard for me to commit to you.”

“Ten, you shouldn’t flirt like this and then—just not take it seriously.” He’s so right it hurts,

Even if Ten told him about it, even if Taeyong was aware, Ten continued flirting and seeing him, knowing where it was leading. He held his hand and looked at him like he hung the moon and the stars. 

It’s Ten fault. 

“I know,” he laments, “I know.”

“I should leave.”

And so Ten watches him go. Walk away. It’s gradual, how his heart shatters, yet manages to hold the tears back until he’s inside his apartment alone in his room. He lets them out, cries and wails, thinking of his past and his future, of the present he continues fucking up. And then thinks.

_Do I deserve to be loved?_

-

Doyoung is a great person. No matter how much Ten likes to insult him. 

He finds him in his room, sleeping, clothes from the day before still on, and tears dry on his cheeks revealing what he’d been doing. Softly, he wakes him up, a hand on his shoulder that is more meaningful that any word.

Ten opens his eyes and instantly regrets being alive.

“Oh, no,” he says. He places his head on his hands and groans. 

“What did you _do_ ?” 

“I fucked up.”

“Let me get you a coffee.”

Sitting in the kitchen, it all dawns on him. What he said, what he thought, what he made Taeyong feel. The coffee remains cold on the counter, and all Doyoung can do is stare at him sadly. 

“You didn’t fuck up, you panicked, he will understand, he’s a nice person,” Doyoung reassures him, “just from seeing him once I could tell.”

That’s a lot from Doyoung, if he’s being honest,

“But I’m not—do I even deserve _him_ ? Deserve to be _loved_?”

Doyoung simply sighs. “You deserve everything, Ten, don’t be dumb. You deserve love and to be _forgiven._ ”

“But he doesn’t need to forgive _me_ —”

“Forgive yourself, Ten.”

He can’t. He’s never been able to.

“I just… Don’t think I can.”

“You are a new person, now, and you deserve to have Taeyong give you attention and love.”

Doyoung’s word seem to glue to his skin, engraving it, he speaks in such a soothing tone it makes the meaning of his advice to be deeper than it probably is. To have such an impact on him, Ten simply stares and allows a tear to fall down. 

“I know,” he says, “I know.”

Forgiving oneself is hard, he realizes. 

-

A few days go by, and Ten remains inside his room attempting to follow Doyoung’s advice.

His fingers twitch with the need to text Taeyong, to talk to him, to ask for _forgiveness_ , but knows it’s not the right way. Knows it’ll only worsen the situation. 

So, he needs a drink, again.

Ten needs a drink and absolutely no one to talk to. He needs to, for a moment, know how incompetent he’s been by himself. Of course, Taeyong’s bar is his first option, and he doesn’t think the consequences through not even one time. He walks, and sees the familiar sign, and enters the place with trembling hands and words hanging by his mouth. 

Taeyong isn’t there. 

There’s no pink bartender, no grinning to the customers, no gray shirts with a black apron on top. He freezes, and considers going back. 

But a drink won’t hurt. 

Of course, one becomes two, and two becomes three, and before Ten can put himself together, he’s blabbering again.

“I’m in love,” he says, his head hurts, and his eyes feel teary, “and I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s though, buddy,” the bartender says. His beard tells him he’s not Taeyong, at all, and then another glass of _soju_ is pushed his way. There’s a fourth and there’s a fifth, and by the end of the night, he’s calling Taeyong with red eyes from crying on the counter for half an hour. The bartender didn’t budge. 

No response from his side. No response from Ten, either. 

He left him, three days in a row, without any answer from his side. Alone, confused. Ten shouldn't be expecting anything from his side. But he knows he’s capable of changing it. 

Changing himself, forgiving himself, and starting again. From scratch. 

Doyoung picks him up. Ten cries on his way back home. 

-

**Ten**  
_we need to talk_

**Taeyong**  
_I know_ _  
_ _Where do you want to meet?_

**Ten**  
_that one café?_

**Taeyong**  
_Ok_ _  
_ _I’ll be there in half an hour_

**Ten**  
_ok_

It’s such a weird way to text, knowing how things turned out. It’s all weird, honestly, and Doyoung wishes him luck on his ways out. 

“Don’t.”

“If you don’t come back with at least a make-out session secured, I’ll be mad,” he says. To lighten the mood, to be his usual self. It makes Ten feel better, because he smiles.

He knows he doesn’t glow, he’s aware, as he enters the coffee shop and the lights that are still up don’t shine on him. Then at the secluded tables on the back, where Taeyong glows incandescently, intensely, he fixes his gaze and knows, is aware, of what love is. 

Ten knows love. And he knows forgiveness. 

Walking up to the table feels eternal, once Taeyong notices him. It’s like a drama, like a scene of a movie, Ten moves slowly until Taeyong is in front of him and the time to face him is right there.

He sits by his side. This time, close enough for their knees to slightly touch. It brings him comfort. 

“So…” Ten begins. Taeyong opens his mouth but Ten doesn’t let him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry because I led you on without being sure of myself, I’m sorry I was a coward and got to the point you got hurt, I’m sorry for everything.”

Taeyong gulps. “Ten—”

“Shut up,” he says, and Taeyong’s lips curve. “I mean it. I had to forgive myself before I talked to you, I needed to land and find myself in a place where I didn’t know what to do, y’know? I think I needed this to happen before I started to lead you on.”

“You don’t deserve to feel like that, Ten, and I’m sorry I pushed you to that point, maybe I rushed it—”

“You never rushed it.” Ten interrupts. “You did what you had to do. And I lied to myself pretending I wasn’t falling for you.”

“You—”

“I really, _really_ like you,” Taeyong seems anxious to talk, but Ten knows all he will do is apologize, which Ten won’t allow. 

“I obviously like you too.”

Ten smiles. “I want you to know I—want to take it slow.”

“I want you to know I’m not in a hurry at all,” he says, “and I’d wait an eternity, if needed.”

“Shut up,” Ten mutters.

“I’m serious!” He exclaims. 

Then, a woman appears, and places two drinks on their table. An _Americano_ and a _White Chocolate Hot Milk_. Ten grins.

“You ordered us drinks?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “is it bad?”

“I could’ve told you to fuck off.”

“But you didn’t.”

Taeyong’s nose is again a red shade. And Ten’s heart is beating fast, a bright red. And Taeyong’s not-so-favorite color is red. 

-

The bar flashes a variety of colored lights. It blinds Ten a little. -

“Why would we come here on your free day?” Ten asks.

“Because it’s different when you’re a customer,” he replies, walking up to the counter. 

Doyoung follows close behind. He seems lost. 

“You made a point. Maybe we can find Doyoungie a partner,” Ten leans against the counter and says. Doyoung rolls his eyes at him.

“I swear I will him you both.”

“Oh,” Taeyong says as he grabs the glasses of _soju_ , apparently, “I think I know someone.”

He sighs and turns around, ready to leave, until he bumps into someone and spills his drinks on his shirt. Doyoung clearly won’t be leaving soon.

“Oh God,” Doyoung mumbles, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’ll—”

“I’ll help you out, c’mon, let’s go to the bathroom,” he says, and they disappear, as if Ten and Taeyong had any involvement in what just happened. 

“Hello?” Ten says. 

“I have no idea what just happened.”

Ten drowns two glasses and grabs Taeyong’s hand. “Whatever, let’s go.”

It’s weird, at first, to let go at a dancefloor he’s seen from afar so many times, and Taeyong finds it even harder as he _works_ here. But once Ten’s hands circle Taeyong’s waist, it’s over for them. Ten finally moves along the music and Taeyong follows, close to him, bodies almost brushing together. They enjoy the music, the movements, the way lights glow inside Taeyong’s eyes and his hair changes colors. 

“You could dye it red.”

“Huh?”

“You could dye it red,” now shouts Ten. 

Taeyong laughs and foxily makes Ten gradually move away from the crowd. Once he realizes it, they’re near the tables.

“Now I can hear you,” Taeyong says.

“I wanted to dance,” he pouts.

“I’m sorry—”

Ten kisses him. In front of people, in the middle of a bar, their bar, Ten leans in and smirks into the kiss, pulling Taeyong’s bottom lip, and then deepens it once Taeyong breathes in. His hands remains on his waist and slowly move up to his face, holding his jaw. Now Taeyong holds his hips and allows Ten to do as he pleases, moving his head to the side so Ten can place his mouth deeper into his. It’s the kind of filthy kiss Taeyong is used to see but hasn’t experienced himself. 

The kind of kiss Ten loves and pushes his entire feelings into. 

Once they pull away, Taeyong looks at the bar, the counter, and sees his friends giving him thumbs up. He shamely hides in Ten’s neck. 

“They are looking at us,” Ten says, as a reminder.

“I know.”

Ten walks to the counter, pulling Taeyong with him, and orders two more shots. 

“Let’s rant about each other.”

Taeyong laughs, leaning back, and Ten wants to bite his neck.

“That’s not fun,” he replies. Ten pouts.

“Why?” He then downs the first shot. 

“Because,” Taeyong does the same. “I’m here now.”

“Oh, you’re jealous?”

“Maybe.”

Ten smirks. “My boyfriend is so nice,” he cries out. Taeyong attempts to cover his mouth with his hand. It’s fruitless. 

“He’s so nice, so pretty, I’m so in _love_ ,” he continues. This time, Taeyong allows him to continue. “Don’t you think?”

Taeyong has to nod.

“He’s the best. I couldn’t ask for someone better.”

The bartender with the beard that once gave him six shots approaches them and smiles, shouting over the music. “Believe him, he’s a good one.”

“See?”

Out of nowhere, Doyoung appears and sits beside them, eyes wide. 

“Uh, I might have made out with someone,” he confesses with shame. Ten cackles. 

“Oh my God,” Ten says. 

“Did you?”

“I have his number, oh God.”

Now it’s Taeyong who has to stifle a laugh. They both look at each other and burst out laughing. 

Doyoung sits on a stool and asks for the bartender.

“Give me your strongest drink.”   
  


**Author's Note:**

> [if you want to commission me all the info is here!!!](https://twitter.com/ten__wv/status/1241880594625200128?s=21)


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